


Through Blood And Dirt And Bone

by Gardy25



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Post CA:TWS, Protective Bucky Barnes, Romance, Triggers, pre CA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 23:03:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1528985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gardy25/pseuds/Gardy25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When I told you 'I'm with you 'till the end of the line' I meant it, Buck."</p>
<p>Bucky let out a shaky breath and leaned into his hands, eyes shut tight. </p>
<p>"I wish I could be everything you deserve." Bucky mumbled, wishing he could disappear into the seams of Steve's skin and create a home in his beating heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through Blood And Dirt And Bone

**Author's Note:**

> This is my own twist on Captain America (how they grew up and what happened in between including their parents deaths). There are spoilers for CA and CA:TWS and there are possible triggers (mention of contemplation of suicide, rape etc), cuss words, violence, and sexual situations (of course!). The title is taken from Trivium's song Through Blood And Dirt And Bone.

_It started a little something like this:_

 

Salem loomed over Steve, anger evident in his small eyes. Apparently, he didn't take too kindly to people interrupting his teasing of someone else (he had been a bully, in the _first grade_ , but Steve didn't know that word so he'd just call Salem a _big meanie_ and Bucky would nod his head furiously in agreement).

 

Even back then Steve didn't much care for teasing girls or being an ass - he knew what it was like on the other side (when he and Bucky would look back years down the road he would say y _ou always were a selfless punk who didn't know when to back down from a fight_ with an affectionate laugh).

 

Before Salem could do anything else besides push him on the ground, another kid was there (James, Steve knew him by at the time) shoving Salem over like one of those tower of blocks children build before extending his hand to Steve and pulling him up.

 

(This wasn't the first time they met. Back in kindergarten, James and Steve would sleep on the same cot-like beds next to each other and eat together, but for some reason, neither of them broke the silence that hung comfortably between them).

 

Steve still remembers the dangerous glint in James' eyes as he gave Steve his famous crooked grin when Steve accepted his hand.

 

The teacher had been _furious_ , and immediately called their moms, twisting the story to where Steve and James teamed up on them (she hadn't been a witness, so she wasn't _exactly_ lying and had no problem doing so because of that), but both mothers knew better - knew their _sons_ better (the teacher loved Salem because he sucked up to her and only showed his good side, while when it came to Steve, she was terrified he would have an asthma attack or break a bone so of course, instead of coddling him (which Steve _hates_ ) she treated him like a leper.)

 

When Steve's mom showed up, she was shocked to see that Steve was leaning against James, a small, shy smile on his face from something Bucky said. That's when she knew Steve and James were going to become inseparable - Steve was incredibly shy and wouldn't talk to anyone except for her and his dad (strangers were especially hard to talk to, but Steve didn't feel like James _was_ a stranger).

 

They were expelled from school for the rest of the week (four days) and James asked his mom ( _begged_ , really) in the parking lot if Steve could come over, and that's when James' mom saw what Steve's already had, and she smiled and said "If Steve's mom is ok with it."

 

They ended up hanging out every day after that, going home with Bucky usually, and they would watch cartoons and Steve might have been a little in love with James because he didn't baby Steve - they played rough, but James knew his limits.

 

-

 

“Bucky?” James had said, eyebrows raised as he looked up from his drawing splayed across the small table. It was a badly drawn version of Steve, who was posing in the chair opposite him. It was for art class - their teacher had said they could draw a person or a landscape of some sort, and of course, Steve had come up with the idea of them drawing each other.

 

“James is too plain for you,” Steve said simply, shrugging. He had been calling James “Bucky” for a while now in his head, but never let the name slip for some reason, like he was afraid of being judged, by _James_ of all people. “And besides, you said you didn’t like your name anyway.”

 

James gave him a crooked smile, eyes bright as he nodded. “I like it.”

 

-

 

When Steve was eight, he lost his mom. She was raped and her throat was slit on her way home from the grocery store.

 

When Bucky's mom pulled him and Bucky out of their art class and told him, Steve folded in on himself and Bucky was there, pressing against him and trying to calm him down as he fought to keep his own tears at bay so he could comfort his friend.

 

Without a moments hesitation, Bucky's mom took him in even though they were struggling. She even bought a bunk bed for him and Bucky to share (and Steve was really guilty, feeling like a burden, and Bucky's mom had picked up on it and told him that it was a pleasure to have him living with him, and that he was like her own child).

 

They had a little argument about who got what, and Bucky shut him up real fast by saying _"I need to be able to protect you,"_ his tone incredibly serious, hands on Steve's shoulders.

 

Steve had blinked at him for a few moments, taking in how solemn Bucky was looking at him before he nodded. "Yeah, yeah ok Buck."

 

A bright, lopsided grin formed on his face and he ruffled Steve's hair playfully, all seriousness gone as he hit Steve in the face with his pillow.

 

Even though they had their own beds, Bucky's mom often found them sleeping together in one of the beds, Steve always against the wall with Bucky protectively pressed against him (the first time they started that, Bucky was drifting off when he felt a warm body slip under his blanket and cold toes pressed into his calves. Even back then Steve was stealing Bucky's heat and Bucky couldn't find it in him to give a damn).

 

-

 

They didn't fight until Bucky got his first girlfriend - Sharon - in tenth grade (girls have been chasing him since elementary school but he always let them down easy, and Steve never understood why until Bucky kissed him, of course). She _hated_ Steve, but Bucky didn't seem to know that. It was.. _Unnerving_ to Steve.

 

"Why do you hate Sharon so much?!" Bucky practically screamed as he paced their room (they still slept on bunk beds because they were broke, but neither minded).

 

Steve looked up at him from the bottom bunk, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Are you _kidding_ me, Buck?!"

 

“Does it _look_ like I’m joking Rogers?” He hissed, taking a step closer.

 

“Ok, you _really_ wanna know, then? You deserve someone _better_ ,” Steve didn’t add the _like me_ part, no matter how bad he wanted to, even though he knew he wasn’t good enough either. “She’s a _slut_ , and just wants you for sex - just wants _everyone_ for sex. Once you refuse or you give her what she wants and then stop, she will rip your heart into shreds, Bucky. You’ll only get hurt, and I’m just trying to-”

 

_“Fuck you.”_ Bucky growled vehemently, eyes narrowing with rage. “You’re just _jealous_ that I can get girls.”

 

Steve froze at those words, the dagger cutting in between his ribs and twisting unforgivingly. He gave a humorless laugh and looked up at the ceiling, unable to look at Bucky anymore. “I always knew you had ulterior motifs, James. That you weren’t being a good person. You keep me around to make yourself look like the cream of the crop, how did I not see it before?”

 

Bucky blinked at the use of his name, guilt starting to taint his uncalled for rage. Steve never uses his name unless he’s being serious and wants Bucky to stop joking around or when he’s furious, and that was very rare. But instead of apologizing for his behavior, he gave Steve a cold look to hide his inner turmoil before leaving the room. He was too stubborn for his own good.

 

They didn’t speak to each other for three weeks after that - Buck’s mom had pulled them both aside separately and asked what happened after the first week of Bucky sleeping on the couch and them not even looking at each other (of course they would sneak glances when the other wasn’t looking, their eyes showing how miserable they were with those glances, but neither of them attempted to mend it) and neither of them had said a word, even though it was clear words were sitting on their tongue.

 

Steve began not showing up at the lunch room for lunch, instead he would go sit in the bathroom and eat alone, feeling the most miserable he ever has in his life besides his mother passing. In class or in the halls, they wouldn’t acknowledge each other, and if they were given a paper that was allowed to be done with a partner they wouldn’t even tilt their head in each others direction.

 

Steve had started sleeping in Bucky’s bed instead of his, and that was where Bucky found him when he went into their room. “I broke up with her,” he offered quietly, wringing his hands as he stood in the middle of the room. Steve was lying on his back, looking up at the frame of his bed. Hanging there was pictures they had taken together from over the years, all of them different poses but Steve and Bucky were always touching and smiling like idiots in each one.

 

“ _Congratulations_ ,” He responded dryly, eyes still tracing the pictures.

 

“I um.. I caught her making out with Salem behind the school.” He mumbled, feeling ashamed of himself. Of all the people she could cheat on him with, _why Salem?_ He was the biggest dick in school, and ever since Bucky had saved Steve’s ass in first grade, he had given them trouble ever since even though Bucky would kick his ass every time.

 

Steve frowned slightly, but he said nothing. He couldn’t just make it that easy after all of this.

 

Bucky stared at him, waiting for him to smile and say it was ok and that they could go back to how they were before this.

 

After a few minutes, Steve looked over, tiring of the eyes burning into his face. “What do you want me to say, hmm James? That it’s all ok, that it doesn’t matter that you screwed me over for some slut even though we’ve known each other for ten years? That all that matters is that you’re here now?” His voice kept rising with each question, voice raspy with uncapped emotion.

 

He gave Steve a shaky smile, realizing how idiotic that sounded. “Yes,” he responded in a small voice, scuffing his bare toes against the carpet.

 

“And I wanted you to listen to me, but that didn’t happen, now did it?” Steve hissed and turned back to looking up at the pictures.

 

“ _Steve_ -” Bucky tried, but was quickly cut off.

 

“Please, just get out.” He hollowly responded, eyes squeezing shut tightly. The only thing he could do was give Steve space at this point.

 

Bucky let out a heavy breath, scrubbing his face with shaky hands before leaving.

 

That night, Bucky slipped into his room at around midnight, seeing that Steve was sleeping in his own bed, and his heart picked up. Was that a good thing, saying that his bed was opened to him again and that everything was ok? Or was it bad, showing that Steve couldn’t even bear to sleep in his bed anymore after what happened, and that he was done with Bucky?

 

For hours, he lay there, tossing and turning until he heard the ladder creaking and saw Steve’s form descending it. He held his breath as he waited for the defining moment - was he going to leave or get in his bed?

 

Steve stood there for what felt like hours, still as a statue. _Finally_ he moved, pulling up the covers and slipping into bed with Bucky, pressing their chests together and wrapping his arms around Bucky. Automatically, his arms wrapped around Steve in turn. “You’re a jerk, Buck,” Steve mumbled to him, blue eyes shining slightly from the moonlight streaming in.

 

Bucky let out a shuddering breath and smiled at him unevenly. “Punk,” he responded in a wavering voice instead of saying “I know I am, I don’t deserve you.”

 

Steve had snorted at that and shook his head with a slight smile before pressing his face into the juncture of Bucky’s neck and shoulder.

 

-

 

The next year, Salem had Sharon on his arm, and he was crueller than ever. When Steve was waiting for Bucky to come back from the bathroom, he cornered Steve behind the school. When Bucky finally showed up, Steve had a bloody nose and his face was bruised to hell.

 

Something snapped in Bucky, then. He ripped Salem off the ground and smashed his face into the brick wall, effectively breaking his nose and cheekbone with one blow, but he wasn’t done. Bucky took his arm and snapped it behind his back, relishing in the pained scream that gurgled slightly from the blood draining down his throat. He was about to move on to his leg, but Steve was there, bloody and bruised but still gorgeous, pulling Bucky off of Salem (not literally, of course, but he was tugging on his arm, trying to talk to Bucky).

 

The man collapsed to the ground, clutching his left arm, sobbing like a little girl. Bucky was staring intensely at Steve, and even though he had murder in his eyes, Steve knew it wasn’t directed at him so he calmly grabbed Buckys arm again. “C’mon Buck, let’s go, we need to go.” Steve was almost pleading, and Bucky picked up on his distress through his haze and nodded.

 

He turned his head to spit on Salem before giving him a swift kick to his chest, hearing a satisfying crack. “You ever come near one of us again and I’ll break every damn bone in your body.” Bucky threatened, snarling in his direction before he led Steve away, hand protectively on the small of his back.

 

Bucky was suspended for a month for that (Salem got nothing - he was treated like a _victim_ even though he beat up Steve), but it was worth it to Bucky. His mother wasn’t furious in the slightest - she patted Bucky on the back and asked Steve to keep Bucky up on his classes while Bucky went and got frozen peas, and he had nodded before letting Bucky lead him into the bathroom.

 

Bucky had Steve sit down on the toilet seat while he wetted a rag before returning to him, tenderly wiping away the dried blood on his face with a slight grimace. “Shoulda let me break his leg,” Bucky mumbled, angry he didn’t do more.

 

Steve cupped Bucky’s face in his hands, trying to get him to stop thinking about it. “He got the message, Buck. He won’t be messing with us anymore.”

 

“That’s _good_ , it really is. But he _deserved more_.” Bucky grumbled as he tossed the rag away before leading the way to their room. They ended up curling up together in his bed, Bucky pressing the bag of peas against his swollen eye. “Keep this on your eye.” Steve smiled at him gently, silently saying _thank you_. It was so endearing how much Bucky fretted over him and how protective he was that it threatened to shatter Steve’s heart.

 

“Yes mom.”

 

-

 

Their senior year, Bucky and Steve moved in to their own apartment.

 

When Bucky's mom was sick in the hospital the winter after they graduated, she took Steve's hand in hers and thanked him, saying how she was so grateful Bucky had him and _take care of my boy for me, Steve_ and made him pinky promise her. He never told Bucky this, just held his friend and cried with him when she passed a few weeks afterwards.

 

That was the first time Steve saw Bucky cry.

 

-

 

That very same winter, Steve had an asthma attack bad enough that landed him in the hospital (when Bucky mentioned this as one of the first memories he recovered, he was trembling, eyes glassy, but he wouldn't let Steve touch him).

 

They had been dancing - well, Bucky was attempting to get rid of Steve's two left feet - and after Bucky laughed at the fifth time in the last ten minutes that Steve had stepped on his foot, Steve hit him playfully in the chest. Bucky gave him a toothy grin and said "That's how you want to repay me for all my free services?!" and pinned Steve against the wall, eyes glittering the same way they had all the way from first grade, but there was something underlying in that gaze that Steve couldn't quite pinpoint.

 

"Maybe I should start giving you fighting lessons too," Bucky was grinning at him in that smug, lopsided way of his, and Steve wanted to prove him wrong, like always, so he began struggling against Bucky's body that had him pinned, but he wouldn't even give an _inch_.

 

"Easy, Tiger. You're going to hurt yourself," he had teased.

 

Steve wasn't sure what triggered the asthma attack, but the next thing he knew he couldn't breathe and Bucky released his grip, eyes wide as he tried to calm Steve down, hands rubbing his back and pressing a wet rag against his neck while he whispered relaxing words.

 

Bucky thought he would be ok - they've gotten through asthma attacks before - but when Steve passed out, Bucky took him to the hospital as quick as humanly possible as he fought back tears, shouting for help before he even stepped foot in the building.

 

Steve awoke to Bucky sleeping in a chair pulled up to his bed. Bucky was holding Steve's left hand (of course he was on Steve's left side, so he was between the door and Steve), fingers pressed into his pulse point.

 

"Bucky," Steve rasped, voice rough.

 

His eyes snapped open, and he gave a loud, relieved sigh, and Steve could see his bloodshot eyes, causing his stomach to lurch.

 

"I'm ok," Steve tried, giving an uneven, weak smile.

 

Before he could even finish talking, Bucky was on him, lips pressing against his in a frantic need, his other hand cupping Steve's cheek.

 

Steve gasped into Bucky's mouth when he bit on his bottom lip, his hand coming up to fist into Bucky's hair.

 

When Bucky pulled away, tears were in his eyes. "I thought you were dead, and I, I already lost my mom, I can't lose you too, and it's all _my_ fault, I'm so sorry, I-"

 

He was rambling, like he's done before, and Steve could finally shut him up how he's always wanted to - with a kiss.

 

The kiss was tender this time, soothing. Bucky was trembling against Steve as he kissed back, a shaky breath escaping his lips when he pulled away slightly.

 

“I’m with you till the end of the line, even if you don’t want me there.” Steve murmured against his friends lips, and Bucky kissed him again, calmer this time, reassured that Steve was indeed ok.

 

"I didn't think our first kiss would go like that," Bucky mused after a while when they were laying together in Steve’s hospital bed, smiling fondly down at the blonde.

 

“You’ve thought about it?” He asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

 

Bucky laughed at that, his hand trailing slowly up and down Steve’s arm. “Didn’t just think it, I   _dreamt_ _it_.”

 

“Well now all your dreams have come true, you can start trying to repay your debt to me now.” Steve teased, swallowing the “I wasn’t the only one?” down.

 

Bucky nipped him on the jaw for that with a growl, the corner of his lips tilted upward.

 

-

 

Life was good for a while after they moved all of what they could to their place and sold the rest of his mother’s belongings that he knew didn’t matter to her or that they didn’t need or have space for. Work was hard and Bucky had to always kick someone’s ass for beating up Steve, but they were _happy_. That is, until Bucky told him he was being shipped out to Europe tomorrow, giving him an apologetic look because he didn’t want to leave, afraid of dying and leaving Steve behind to try and fend for himself, or coming back and finding out he had died or moved on.

 

Steve had wiped his eyes, frustrated and terrified, as he slumped further into the couch. “I should be going with you,” he choked out, hiding his face in his hands.

 

“What, so I could save your ass from fire every two seconds?” Bucky teased, trying to make him feel better as he wrapped his arms around Steve and pulled him against his chest.

 

“I’m supposed to be with you - I.. I _promised_ I’d be with you till the end, and how is that possible if _I’m not there?!”_

 

“Don’t worry, your voice will be in my head, like always when you’re not with me.” He confessed, sheepishly smiling at Steve when he looked up at him in disbelief.

 

That night, Bucky opened Steve up nice and slow, rocking into him leisurely and hard, his eyes never leaving Steve’s, soaking in every moan and taking in Steve writhing and arching under him, nails digging into his shoulders as he gasped _Bucky_ like a mantra for hours as he came undone underneath him.

 

The next morning when he woke up to Steve staring down at him from his propped elbow, fingers coming up to brush back the hair that was across his forehead, Bucky felt like he wanted to cry. They kissed unhurried and sweet, hands roaming over bare skin until Bucky was forced to get up and get ready.

 

Steve walked Bucky there, both of them silent, dreading the moment that they would be separated.

 

Before Bucky went to get on the boat, he turned to Steve and gave him a look brimming with emotions that were ready to overflow. “Hold down the fort for me, soldier.” Bucky’s lips were trembling as he spoke, saluting him afterwards, and Steve wanted to kiss it away, but he couldn’t so he saluted back, eyebrows pulling together as he tried not to break down right there.

 

Bucky gave him a dejected smile, knowing that if Steve spoke he would start crying, before he nodded his head to his lover and boarded the ship.

 

Bucky stood on the deck, staring back at Steve until he was unable to see the dock anymore, whispering a “Goodbye Steve,” that was lost in the wind.

 

“Goodbye Bucky,” Steve whispered before he turned away to go home to an empty apartment.

 

-

 

It was hard after that - Steve never smiled, and only thought about Bucky, even dreamt about him every night.

 

Once he was transformed thanks to the serum (which he mostly did to be with Bucky again, the need to be with him driving him absolutely bat shit), all he could think about was being reunited with Bucky and fighting with him on the front line, but he ended up being a _poster boy_ , and even though it helped his country like he wanted, _it wasn’t the same._

 

And then he found out his last crowd was what was left of the 107th and that Bucky was nowhere to be found. _That Bucky was determined KIA._

 

Steve refused to let it go, refused to believe after all of this bullshit he was dead. So he stormed the enemy camp by himself, the one man wrecking ball, saving Bucky, along with all of the prisoners. When Bucky said “I thought you were smaller,” in reprisal to Steve’s “I thought you were dead,” he wanted to sob and hug Bucky and kiss his breath away, but he didn’t have time, so he steadied his friend, wrapped an arm around him, and led the way.

 

He could do all that later.

 

-

 

The whole time they were trekking back to camp, Steve and Bucky kept shooting glances at each other. More than once, they both had thoughts of jumping the other, but there were so many men around, and back then, people didn’t take too kindly to “queers.”

 

As soon as Steve agreed that they should stop and rest for the night because everyone looked dead on their feet, Bucky said he would keep watch. Someone had said that he couldn’t do it alone, but once Steve said he’d be keeping watch too, they all settled down in the forest, seemingly content with their protectors.

 

Once they were completely positive everyone was asleep Steve was on him, straddling his hips and biting at his bottom lip, whining lowly in his throat. Bucky’s hands were solid on his cheek and the nape of his neck as he kissed back slowly, nipping gently on Steve’s bottom lip and steadying him until the kiss was less teeth and calmer. “You’re an _idiot_ for storming that base all by yourself,” Bucky mumbled against Steve’s lips.

 

“You’re a jerk for getting caught and making me pull your ass out of the fire,” He responded, digging his teeth into Bucky’s bottom lip with a quiet growl.

 

“You’re a punk for taking that serum just to chase after me and _put yourself_ in the line of fire,” Bucky shot back once Steve let go of his bottom lip.

 

While they were walking today, Steve ran down what Bucky has missed and how he looked like this now - Bucky had looked a range from guilty for leaving Steve behind, to love when he admitted he did it for Bucky basically, a mixture of cheeky awe and being proud of Steve for saving that boy, and rage at him being a dancing monkey, to grateful for being saved from torture and being reunited with Steve.

 

In turn, Bucky filled him in on how many dicks were in the 107th and the few good guys there (Steve remembered who Bucky said and picked his team based off of his opinions because he trusted Bucky’s judge of character), to his training, how much he missed Steve, and then finally how they were ambushed and kidnapped, and that Bucky was tortured and experimented on (Steve looked like he was about ready to have a heart attack when he told him that, so he gave Steve a reassuring look and held up his hand, already knowing that Steve was about to check every inch of his body to make sure he was ok, and Steve understood, backing off, but gave him a look that promised _later_ ).

 

“I still can’t believe you’re not that scrawny kid that I had to save every day,” Bucky murmured as he traced his hands over Steve’s strong shoulders and down his chest, looking like he was in awe. Steve ducked his head slightly, blushing.

 

“You still um.. Are interested in me though?” He asked the question that he has been worrying over the whole time, blushing even more when Bucky gave him an incredulous look.

 

“I could fuck you into this ground _right now_ , Rogers, and you act like I’ve been _evading_ your touches the whole time instead of sticking my tongue down your throat.” He laughed at Steve’s needless insecurities, in disbelief that he could even _think_ that. “You were already the most gorgeous person I’ve ever known, and now I don’t have to worry about you getting your ass kicked or breaking you or setting off an asthma attack when we fuck, so I’d say I can handle this.” Bucky muttered fondly as he ran his hands gently though Steve’s hair, giving the hair at the nape of his neck a slight tug.

 

_“Shut up,”_ Steve mumbled, choked up, as he pressed his face into Bucky’s neck.

 

Bucky never did get to test drive Steve’s new body.

 

-

 

_It almost ended a little like this:_

 

Steve watched as Bucky's grip slipped and he plummeted to his death, and all Steve could do was scream.

 

Every night after that, Steve would dream about Bucky falling, his terrified face _seared_ into his mind, the exact pitch of his scream.

 

He saw Bucky everywhere, heard his voice whisper something to him when Steve's head was too crowded.

 

Everyone thought Steve crashing the plane into the ice was "heroic" and "the only way" but truthfully, Steve knew another way, but he didn't _want_ that way. He needed a scapegoat, and he found one that would take him out the heroic way instead of staying around and tarnishing his name by going bat shit crazy without Bucky.

 

And then he woke up. Of _course_ he did - he was being punished for Bucky's death, plain and simple.

 

Steve remembers when he woke up alone seventy years in the future, and something triggered his brain to remember Bucky plummeting to the ground (sometimes, Steve wondered if it was quick and painless or not, because yes, it is a huge drop and Steve doesn't know if _he_ could even survive, but there was a skeptical part of him, telling him Bucky's ok. He simply tells himself he's crazy, and Bucky coming to him every night was proof of his lunacy) and it all went downhill from there (remembering this drove him to chasing after Bucky, to fight for him because _he knows how Bucky feels_ and he never wants Bucky to feel that way).

 

Once he was composed, Fury had handed over two things - a photo stack with a knot tied around them to keep them together, and his sketch book. Instantly, he was outraged, screaming "How did you get these?!?!" in a panicked voice, body shaking as he clutched them to his chest.

 

Fury calmly explained (he must deal with unreasonable idiots that get thawed out of ice _a lot_ ) that they found them in his apartment all these years ago and kept them. Tony had saved the pictures onto a hard drive with his technology so they wouldn't be lost forever (which is good, because he’s shredded up countless copies of those pictures when guilt and rage ate through him from the inside out, thinking _you could've lunged for him. The worst thing that would've happened was dying together_ among other more unpleasant thoughts).  

 

Once the dust settled, Steve curled up in his bed and slowly looked at each picture. Every year, since first grade, they took a picture together to show how much they changed (he was surprised Bucky agreed, thought he'd have to argue and beg but he had simply nodded and gave a soft smile, asking if he got a copy too) and the last one was an overlap - they had already taken one that year, but Steve wanted to take one post-serum, so they managed to right before the mission where he lost his best friend. Steve had Bucky in a headlock, shooting a huge goofy grin towards the camera, and Bucky had his hands on Steve's arm, trying to pull him off, but his was mouth open in silent laughter, eyes lit up.

 

Steve looked away and set the pictures aside gingerly, taking a deep breath before opening his sketch book. They were mostly of Bucky - one of them being Bucky fast asleep on his side, entangled in their comforter back in their old, run down apartment. He looked so peaceful, it was almost a tragedy. Once he got to the monkey drawing, there was only one after that - Bucky was leaning against a table, pointing at something on the map. He looked _gorgeous_ , the dip of his clavicle barely visible, and Steve committed it to memory so he could draw it that night. Bucky had watched him draw it, chin resting on Steve's shoulder from where he sat behind him on the bed, arms around his waist, hands pressing into his abdomen.

 

After Bucky's death, Steve never picked up his sketchbook again. He no longer saw the world in vibrant colors - everything was drenched in grey and tasted of blood instead. Every "opportunity" was a chance of getting hurt now, instead of it used to being a lucky chance and endless possibilities for doing great things, but he kept that to himself because the war effort wouldn't take too kindly to it.

 

(The color in his life only started blooming again once Bucky agreed to stay with him).

 

Steve contemplated suicide often (what a headline that would make _Captain America Commits Suicide_ ) but then Bucky was there, talking him down and taking the loaded Python out of his hand and curling up with him, and the thing is, Steve _knew_ it was an illusion, but he didn't _care_ because he had Bucky there, so whenever Steve could, he let that bitter oil slick his tongue.

 

This routine didn't stop until he saw Bucky _in the flesh and blood_ and Steve, to put it simply, wanted to cry and jump the man at the same time, but then he said those damning words - "Who the hell is _Bucky_?" - and his world crashed around him, suffocating him so quickly he thought he was going to lose it right there.

 

-

 

If anyone would've told Steve that Bucky would willingly go to Steve for help only months after Bucky drug him out of the water, Steve would laugh that bitter laugh that he's acquired from hopelessly stumbling after Bucky and probably shove his shield up their ass.

 

But here Bucky was, stiffly standing in front of the open window of Steve's new apartment (he loved Sam and Natasha, but it was getting too cramped and he liked being alone so he got himself a place), looking like a startled cat ready to bolt. The moonlight cast enough light that Steve could make out the black rimming his eyes and the all black gear he wore - the only thing missing was his mask and goggles.

 

Steve almost sobbed in relief right then and there, but he managed to choke it back.

 

He knew he should probably feel threatened, want to get to his shield as soon as possible, but his gut told him that he had no reason to be afraid. This was _Bucky_ after all.

 

Buck's shaking hands were clutching onto the windowsill behind him, and to Steve, it seemed like that was the only reason he was standing. Queasily, Steve noted the growing pool of blood at his friends feet.

 

"Bucky.." Steve whispered, voice sounding thick and uneven in his own ears.

 

Dull blue eyes looked up from the floor at the sound of his voice, recognition flashing in his eyes.

 

"Steve... I.." He began, but stopped. What used to be a smooth voice was rough from disuse. Steve imagines his voice would be similar if the roles were reversed - there's no need to talk when your job is to pull the trigger.

 

Bucky pushed off from the wall, lips curling slightly into a scowl from the pain he was experiencing, and he took a half step forward before freezing, eyes widening in what Steve could only describe as panic. "Why am I here?? I should've never come, I-" Bucky turned around and scrambled for the window too quickly, which led him to slipping in his blood as he tried to make his escape.

 

Steve quickly shot forward, catching Bucky only a few inches before he hit the ground, thanking his quick reflexes and speed for saving Bucky from additional unnecessary pain. Steve fell gracelessly to his knees with Bucky in his lap. "You've never been graceful, have you Buck?" Steve mumbled teasingly, cautiously affectionate as he looked down at his friend. He grimaced slightly, not too fond of the blood that was seeping through his pajama pants and into his skin, but Steve would live, so he kept quiet and didn't try to jostle Bucky.

 

After a couple of seconds of initial confusion, Bucky tried to pull away from Steve, wide, panicked eyes staring up at him as he tried to push himself up into a sitting position. He ended up slumping back down on Steve's lap, cursing loudly because he was too weak to fight back or run.

 

A knot twisted tightly in the blonde's stomach, and as gently as he could, he helped Bucky sit up before he stood. Bucky was given no time to move before Steve picked him up gingerly, trying his best to ignore Bucky's quiet whimper that he didn't mean to let past his lips.

 

Even though he initially tried to escape, Bucky was now quiet and still in his arms as Steve quickly carried him into the bathroom and sat him down on the toilet seat.

 

"Am I going to have to restrain you to get a look at that wound, Buck?" Steve murmured gently, unable to help himself as he tucked his friends hair behind his ears. Bucky flinched back slightly, and that hurt Steve, but it was understandable, so he turned away and got the first aid kit that he kept in the cabinet under the sink to preoccupy himself. Even though Bucky never answered, he figured it was was no.

 

When he turned back around, he noticed Bucky was fumbling with the straps on his clothes, shaky hands unable to undo them. Steve set down the kit on the sink before he enveloped Bucky's hands in his own, watching his face for a reaction. Bucky froze, his whole body going rigid.

 

Steve frowned slightly, but he pulled his hands away and gently brushed Bucky's out of the way before he went to work on taking off his clothes. He couldn't let Bucky see how much his reactions affected him.

 

Once Bucky was down to his boxers, Steve cleaned the wound that went from Bucky's right shoulder all the way down to his left hipbone as tenderly as he could, wincing every time he heard Bucky give off a pained sound. The wound - thankfully - wasn't deep enough that Bucky needed stitches.  The whole time Steve cleaned off the grime from his skin and bandaged his wound up, Bucky stared at the wall opposite him, chest rising shallowly, almost like he was on the verge of a panic attack.

 

After putting the washcloth with the pile of clothes on the floor, he stood up and got a fresh one and wetted it before tilting Bucky's chin up. He closed his eyes, unable to look at Steve as he tenderly wiped away the black from around his eyes and the dirt off of his face and neck. When he let go of Bucky's chin, the man turned his head away.

 

He couldn't bear to look at Steve after all the pain he inflicted on him, and the way Steve was treating him with the utmost care despite all that has happened.

 

Steve wanted to kiss him, to scream at him and hit him and tell him he isn't weak for coming to him for help, he wanted to wrap around him in bed and keep him safe, wanted to crawl under his skin and see how he works now. But he doubted Bucky would appreciate any of that, so he went and got the most comfortable shirt and pajama pants he could find to stop himself from doing irrational things that could potentially ruin everything.

 

When he came back into the bathroom, Bucky was staring at his metal hand in disgust, hard lines formed between his eyebrows and teeth slightly showing in what Steve could only call a snarl.

 

He started to put Bucky's arm through the shirt hole, but he yanked his arm away harshly and snatched the clothes from Steve's hands.

 

Slowly, Bucky put them on himself, trying not to give away how much pain he was in. It hurt Steve that his friend wouldn't let him help even though it was clear he needed it, but there was nothing he could do.

 

He also refused Steve's help when he tried to pick him up, or at the very least let Bucky lean on him as they walked.

 

Steve followed behind Bucky the whole way, hands outstretched and ready to catch him when he stumbled or fell.

 

It never happened.

 

He curled up on the couch without saying a word, and Steve knew better than to try and talk to him or give him a blanket - it would only cause more problems, so he went to his bedroom and folded in on himself under his comforter, letting a few tears fall before he bottled everything back up.

 

-

 

Two weeks into Bucky's stay, and they haven't exchanged more than a few words. It was worrisome, but Steve was determined and hopeful and had all the time in the world.

 

Thankfully, Bucky's wound healed completely without any complications, but it seemed like his mental state is still in the same ruins it was before. He had nightmares every night, and Steve would get a metal hand around his throat for trying to help - it never stopped him though.

 

-

 

When Steve's door creaked open in the middle of the night, and Bucky stood there, looking hopelessly lost, he was surprised to say the least.

 

Silently, Steve lifted the covers and Bucky stiffly walked over to him, arms cradled over his stomach. Even though Steve was sure Bucky knew he could cuddle up to Steve, he kept his distance, fingers picking at the comforter restlessly.

 

"There was a pillow fort." Bucky said, breaking the silence, voice small and shaky. Steve started, looking over at his friend. He hadn't talked for the hour he's been laying here, and he didn't expect him to at all at this point. "And a lot of blankets. It was really cold, and you.. You were tiny, frail, curled up in my arms, shaking even with all the blankets and clothes piled up on us.. I was terrified that I was going to lose you - you never did well with the cold - so I..." He trailed off, biting his bottom lip.

 

"So you kissed me," Steve finished breathlessly, hope curling at the pit of his stomach.

 

Bucky looked over at him tentatively, jaw working around words he wasn't sure if he wanted to say or not. Steve still couldn't get over the haircut he got two days ago - the exact haircut he had before Steve lost him and before he was altered, and, it _hurt_ (Bucky hasn't said a word about it either. Steve almost did, the words already formed, but instead he stared as Bucky cleaned his metal arm, grateful that he was there because when Steve awoke that day, he was nowhere to be found and Steve was _terrified_ that Bucky decided that Steve wasn't worth staying around for.) There was no other way to describe what he felt besides heartache when he looked at Bucky, and really, Steve wouldn't have it any other way.

 

"So you and Bucky were together then?" He finally managed, noticing his mistake right away when he saw the pain flit across Steve's features before he tucked it away neatly and met his eyes again.

 

He nodded, giving a flimsy smile. "That was our first kiss in our new apartment." Bucky realized then, that it would be so easy to _crush_ Steve, to strangle him, to stay around and break his heart just for the hell of it, but the thoughts of doing such things made him physically nauseous.

 

Bucky frowned, looking away. "I don't.. Remember much about our relationship." He confessed, and this time, he didn't refer to himself in third person because it was needless and it just hurt Steve more, and he's already done that enough.

 

Steve laughed a short, bitter laughter that cut like steel. He knew Bucky wouldn't, but it still stung. "I.. I don't know if I'll be able to tell you everything without breaking down.." He took a deep breath, eyes closing. "You were all that mattered to me back then - you still are." And Steve left it at that.  Bucky didn't know if he was grateful or not for that.

 

Bucky's lips still tingled from the memory.

 

-

 

The next morning, Steve woke up to an empty bed, and he immediately began panicking, afraid that after Bucky remembered that they were more than friends, he became disgusted or terrified or anything bad or repulsive that would make him turn tail and run, and he decided to leave when Steve fell asleep.

 

His nausea curbed when he stumbled into his living room to see Bucky curled in on himself on the couch, watching tv. Letting out a relieved sigh, Steve ran a shaky hand through his hair before turning away to make breakfast.

 

-

 

Bucky was silent as he ate his eggs (overhard, just like he used to like, and apparently still did), eyes downcast.

 

"That kiss - it was the first night after we moved in." Steve was slightly nervous, but eventually, he needed to talk about this - Bucky deserves to know.

 

Bucky looked up through his lashes at Steve, gaze intent, but still slightly hollow around the edges, a fork full of eggs stopped halfway to his open mouth.

 

Steve blushed. "You uh.. We didn't stop at the kissing. You said -"

 

"I know a way to fight off the cold." Bucky cut him off, eyes distant, looking through him now.

 

Steve shook his head. "First night in the apartment and we already made it smell like spunk." That actually drew a small laugh out of Bucky, his cheeks slightly pinker.

 

"Your mom, she visited the next day to see how we had settled in, and she gave us this look - the I-knew-it-was-only-a-matter-of-time one, and wow, that was embarrassing." Steve laughed at the memory, the ghost of his embarrassment still residing in his stomach.

 

It grew silent again after that, but Steve was ok with this type of silence.

 

It wasn't until Steve was putting the dishes away that Bucky spoke again. "That didn't stop us from doing it again that night," he murmured, almost like it was a secret.

 

It took Steve a moment to figure it out, but once he did, he blushed again. "So you remember all of that, then?" He asked as he grabbed the plate Bucky was handing him. Their fingers lingered a little too long as they stared at each other, but Steve eventually broke it to bend over and put the dish in the dishwasher.

 

"I remember all of it like it just happened.. How embarrassed and flushed you look, and how I grabbed your hand under the blanket we were sharing - because you were cold - to reassure you, and the way you relaxed and leaned into me, and..." His voice trailed off, and he fidgeted with the hem of his black tee shirt. _"And the way you moaned my name."_ He whispered. "How you rocked into me.. Steve, I _can't_.." His voice cracked, and tears were welling in his eyes. "I'm not the same Bucky from these memories.."

 

Steve's heart was pounding in his throat, and he tried to swallow around the lump so he could speak. "I _know_ you are Buck. It's just going to take some time to feel like it."

 

Bucky gave him a sad, resigned smile. His eyes told Steve he didn't believe him, but he didn't push it. "You're a punk." It was soft, slightly uneven.

 

Steve blinked back tears, looking away. "Jerk." He mumbled back, unsure if Bucky even remembered.

 

Bucky hesitantly reached out, but at the last second pulled away. "I do remember," he settled on instead of touching him.

 

"Of course you can still read my mind." Steve huffed to try and stop the feeling that he needed to cry.

 

"You're still the same Steve, you always have been. And even though I'm having some.." Bucky paused and looked down as he flexed his metal fingers. "..Issues, I can still tell."

 

Steve looked over at Bucky with a soft, affectionate smile laced with dejection. "And you said you aren't Bucky."

 

-

 

"Bucky!" A voice hissed, hands pressing into his shoulders, rocking him back to reality.

 

Bucky froze when he realized his metal hand was wrapped around Steve's throat. Blinking back his nightmare, he cursed and scooted as far away as he could without getting off the bed (that he crept into in the middle of the night because of an absurd need of being able to know Steve is still breathing and unharmed. He tried not to, even went back to the couch three times before the urge was too strong and he couldn't hold out anymore. A sleepy Steve simply mumbled his name and cuddled up to him when he crawled into bed), out of Steve's reach.

 

"Fuck, Steve, why do you put up with this?" He felt close to tears, and seeing the red marks around Steve's neck wasn't helping. Steve has been nothing but helpful and understanding and sweet for the past three weeks and this is how Bucky repays him?!

 

"What's a relationship without a little pain?" Steve responded gently as he closed the gap that was between them, and it amazed Bucky how he wasn't trying to decapitate him with his shield - or at least the very least was screaming at him - after he tried to choke him to death.

 

Bucky shook his head and choked back a sob as he touched the marks gently with his fingertips of the hand he trusted. Steve was watching him with a soft expression in his eyes, no tension between his shoulders despite what Bucky had done. "I don't deserve you," he finally managed to whisper, the tears spilling down his cheeks and dripping onto his chest.

 

Steve cupped his face gently, thumbs wiping away the tears steadily. "When I told you 'I'm with you 'till the end of the line' I meant it, Buck."

 

Bucky let out a shaky breath and leaned into his hands, eyes shut tight.

 

"I wish I could be everything you deserve." Bucky mumbled, wishing he could disappear into the seams of Steve's skin and create a home in his beating heart.

 

Maybe then his head wouldn't be full of such dark, negative thoughts. Maybe then the noise in his ears and the painful flashes would subside, and Bucky could attempt living a normal life.

 

Steve let out a choked laugh and pressed his forehead to Bucky's. "I don't think you realize you're all I've ever wanted."

 

Bucky wanted to crawl into a hole and never return. He didn't do _anything_ to deserve this.

 

"You protected and fixed me when we weren't old men, now it's my turn." Steve whispered, pressing a tender kiss to the corner of Bucky's mouth.

 

Bucky pressed his face into Steve's neck and wrapped his arms tightly around him, letting himself go for the first time since he fell off the train.

 

He could feel Steve's tears dampen his shirt, and he imagined he was doing much the same to Steve's.

 

Steve pressed a fond kiss under Bucky's ear through the tears, causing Bucky to tighten his hold on him and to press closer.

 

After a while, Bucky let out a quiet yawn, head lulling on Steve's shoulder. He smiled and ran a gentle hand through Bucky's hair, heart swelling when he arched up into his touch. "I bet you're tired Buck."

 

"Yawning is a good sign, Rogers." Bucky teased, smirking. He didn't really understand his behavior, the response he gave to Steve, but it felt natural, and this kind of natural was new to him. "But yeah, haven't slept good in a long time. Too suspicious of everything and not a good bed in sight."

 

Steve laid down on his side, dragging Bucky down with him. They were chest to chest, their arms wrapped protectively around each other, legs tangled, and Bucky's face pressed against Steve's neck.

 

"Sweet dreams, Bucky." Steve murmured into Buckys hair before pressing a kiss into it.

 

"Let's hope so," he responded wearily before shutting his eyes.

 

-

 

Steve woke up to wandering fingertips on his skin, warm and soothing as it traced over his jawline and slowly through his soft hair. He hummed and leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering open so he could look up at Bucky.

 

He was on his side, propped up by his left arm. Steve was on his back, his left side pressed into Bucky. The man had a surprisingly calm expression on his face, blue eyes warm like tropical oceans.

 

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Steve's forehead. "I remember..." Bucky breathed against his forehead, lips brushing his skin as he spoke, lingering there for a moment before pulling away a bit.

 

"Remember..?" Steve prompts, tilting his head back slightly to catch his eyes.

 

Bucky's hand cupped the right side of Steve's face, smiling contently. "When I first told you I love you."

 

Steve smiled back at him, starting to understand why Bucky was acting this way. "That's one of the better memories."

 

Steve reached up and tangled his right hand in Bucky's hair, tugging him closer so he could press a kiss to his jaw. Steve knew he shouldn't be falling so quickly for Buck because he _knew_ that this could all change at the flip of a coin, but he couldn't help himself - this was his best friend smiling down at him, touching him. Steve could see it in his eyes. It was just like Bucky never fell off the train and Steve could still be blown away by a strong enough wind.

 

"I can't believe how much of a sap I was," he said with a snort.

 

"I wouldn't want you any other way." Steve replied honestly, the corner of his lips tilting up.

 

"But I took you out to the Dodgers game and we had a picnic at sunset on the roof of our building, and I was just feeding you some pudding, when all of a sudden it just... Spilt out. And then I starting rambling on and on about why I love you so much because I was _terrified_ that you wouldn't say it back, and you had to shut me up by kissing me and telling me you loved me too, and then.."

 

He flushed, eyes glinting from the memory playing behind his open eyes. Steve decided he'd fill in the rest because Bucky looked lost in thought. "Then we hastily packed up and as soon as we were back in our apartment, you had me splayed out on the bed as you opened me up nice and slow and explored my admittedly tiny and unattractive body-"

 

"It wasn't tiny or unattractive at all," Bucky protested, giving Steve this _look_. The same look Bucky had always given him when he used to berate himself.

 

Steve gave him this disbelieving look back but didn't argue any further. "It was.. A memory I've been thinking about since I was thawed out." Steve admitted. "I was so damn lost without you, Buck.."

 

"I'm here now... And I'll still be here even when the line ends," he promised after a moment, even though he wasn't sure if his past would allow him. One thing for sure though, was that he would do his damnedest to be there with Steve. "I can't promise that it'll always be as effortless as this though."

 

Steve expected as much. It was astonishing Bucky was acting like this already, especially how it was not long ago that they barely spoke to one another. He knew it couldn't stay this way, though. Nothing was ever this easy. Life always seemed to give him doses of feelings and problems in extremes.

 

"As long as you're here, I don't care."

 

"I can do that." He sounded bashful, fingers pressing softly into the part where Steve's jaw connects to his throat so he could feel his pulse so he knew that Steve was actually there, curled up against him, content. Steve's pulse calmed him, always has. The only way Bucky didn't lose his shit when Steve used to have asthma attacks was by feeling for his pulse while he helped Steve, and Steve knew that.

 

Even though Steve knew that Bucky thought that Steve believed that he was always strong - for the both of them - Bucky doesn't seem to remember that Steve knows him like the back of his hand (or knew, he guesses he should stay. But he can still see glimmers of Bucky in there) or that when Steve used to have his asthma attacks, Bucky's face would twist up and silent tears would drip down his face when he thought Steve was asleep, and his fingers would reach for any of Steve's pulse points he could touch, and that would stop his grief.

 

Steve pressed his face into Bucky's chest, eyes fluttering closed contently.

 

Steve wished he could live in this moment forever.

 

Bucky let himself get lost in the memory, seeing Steve behind his eyes as he gasped his name and rocked up into him with every slow thrust, clinging onto his back as if his life depended on it.

 

Bucky made a quiet whining sound in the back of his throat at the memory, pressing closer to Steve. He could _feel_ the memory just as much as he could see it, and it was troublesome.

 

Steve seemed to know what he was thinking about, and he chuckled into Buck's stomach, fingers tracing teasingly on Buck's hip underneath his shirt, but he made no move to reenact the memory - much to Bucky's disappointment - so he tried to push the memory away for now and focus on how his life has made a very sharp, unexpected turn for the better.

 

-

 

The next day was more of what Steve had expected at first - _violence_.

 

A loud crash broke Steve from his slumber, and he knew right away that Bucky had something to do with it - he was, after all, absent from Steve's bed.

 

When he opened his door, he saw Bucky pacing, his sneakers crunching back and forth over the bloody glass from the broken window that littered the floor. Cursing, Bucky punched the wall, this time with his left hand, hard enough to put a hole in it. His right hand was hanging at his side limply - glass was sticking out of it, but Bucky didn't seem to care.

 

"Bucky!" Steve said, forcing himself not to rush forward in case he took it as a threat.

 

It didn't matter.

 

Bucky whipped around, snarling, his face almost unrecognizable from the mask of rage that adorned him now.

 

Before Steve could think to move, Bucky was there, slamming him against the wall harshly enough that it knocked the wind out of Steve, fingers digging into his shoulders hard enough to bruise. The glass was cutting into his skin, and every time one of them moved, the glass sliced more of his skin up.

 

"Bucky," Steve tried again, attempting to keep his voice leveled.

 

His fingers tightened their hold on him in response, narrowed eyes tracking every minute movement.

 

He showed no recognition at all - he was simply a feral animal now that Steve couldn't bear to put down.

 

"Buck, your hand, I need to take a look at it," Steve tried again, reaching up slowly to the hand fisted in his white tee shirt.

 

Before Steve could think about retracting his hand (because that was a _stupid_ move), Bucky's right hand caught Steve's wrist and slammed it against the wall.

 

"Try anything again and I'll gut you," he rasped, voice thick with rage. He was so close to Steve that their noses almost touched.

 

Steve felt his stomach lurch, wondering what triggered Bucky into this streak of blind violence.

 

Calmly, Steve tried to think of a way of diffusing the situation without any more blood being spilt.

 

He could try to move again, but Bucky was pinning him against the wall with his weight, so there was no way. He could continue to talk, but that only seemed to add fuel to the wildfire that was already in effect.

 

And then there was the only other option Steve could think of - kissing him. He knew that was risky, but, what else could he do? He was pinned, and Bucky sure as hell wasn't listening to reason.

 

So Steve went for it.

 

He jerked forward a little too harshly, but he managed not to knock their foreheads together as his lips pressed against Bucky's. The man tensed immediately, eyes widening in disbelief.

 

Steve was instantly horrified that Bucky was going to wrap his metal hand around his throat, this time finishing his job, but instead he lurched forward, snarling into Steve's open mouth before his teeth dug into Steve's bottom lip, automatically drawing blood and making him gasp in pain.

 

Steve wasn't sure if Bucky was kissing him or trying to chew his bottom lip off.

 

Their teeth clacked together (making Steve wince because he's always hated the feeling of teeth clacking) as Bucky frantically attempted to kiss him instead of torture him, his fingers bunching into Steve's shirt once again.

 

Seeing the window of opportunity, Steve quickly grabbed Bucky's wrists and spun around, slamming him against the wall with his hands pinned above his head. He couldn't bring himself to break the rough kiss despite his plan and his inner thoughts screaming at him to _take care of it_ but this reminded him of how it used to be sometimes after Steve recovered from his fit, Bucky growling into his mouth and biting (not like he was trying to rip out a chunk of flesh or draw blood though, just enough to leave a mark) as he kissed Steve desperately, hands fisted into his shirt in a way that suggested that Bucky thought Steve would drift away if he let go.

 

When Steve pulled away from Bucky, the other man was panting against him. Steve could feel each breath he took against his chest, and the blood that made his grip on one wrist slightly slick (which he's been trying to ignore the whole time).

 

Steve wanted to take Bucky right up against the wall, wanted to feel his nails gouge into his back and see the way Bucky would arch into it and beg for more, head thrown back against the wall (Steve has never been the one to top, and after the serum, they never got the chance to do anything but sneak in a kiss or a hand job here and there).

 

"Steve," Bucky said in a small, scared voice that had his head snapping to attention. His eyes were wide, body quivering like Steve's used to during winter, but he knew they weren't for the same reason.

 

Steve released Bucky's wrists, but before his right hand could drop to his side, he caught it and brought it close to his face. "Tell me it's only my blood," he whispered, looking up from Steve's hand, eyes begging.

 

"It is." Steve reassured, his smile slightly weak. These mood swings are going to kill him.

 

Bucky let out the breath he was holding in and closed his eyes, fingers tightening slightly against Steve's, metal finger pressed into Steve's pulse. He wondered if Bucky could feel it.

 

"Buck, we gotta get the glass outta your hand," Steve said after a few moments after he let Bucky catch his breath, metal still pressed into his skin.

 

The man grimaced down at his hand for the first time, eyebrows pulling together in clear frustration.

 

He nodded after what seemed like an hour, willingly following Steve into the bathroom, finger still pressed into his pulse.

 

As gingerly as he could, Steve removed all of the glass shards one by one. He only had one arm to operate with because Bucky still had his fingers around Steve's wrist, and that seemed like it was the only thing that was keeping him sane.

 

After Steve made sure all the glass was gone, he cleaned off Bucky's hand methodically, and even though Buck didn't wince once, he knew that it had to sting like a bitch.

 

When Steve pulled his other hand away so he could bandage the wound, Bucky made an unhappy noise, eyes flickering up to Steve, almost like he was asking him _what the hell are you doing?! Get back here!_ but he said nothing, just watched Steve expertly bandage his hand up before _finally_ washing the blood off his hands.

 

As soon as he turned off the tap, Bucky was crowding him, tugging Steve's shirt over his head (and Steve's arms automatically went up because Bucky used to do that all the time, sometimes to feel, to bite and suck and lick and other times to cuddle) and when he remembered the wounds Bucky gave him, he mentally kicked himself.

 

As soon as the bleeding cuts and bruises came into view, he took a step back, eyes going cold, dark. "Thought you said it was my blood," Bucky gave him an accusing look as his eyes slowly raked over Steve's chest, assessing the damage.

 

"You were asking about my hand."

 

"You're such a smart ass, Steve." Bucky drawled, giving him his best Bucky-Barnes-disapproves squint (which made Steve's chest ache in unfathomable ways) before tending to Steve's wounds like he had moments before.

 

"You misewell not bother - they'll be healed and gone within a day," Steve said as Bucky wiped away the blood. He chose not to add Bucky shot him multiple times and beat his face in and the next day he was already in scar formation for the bullet wounds.

 

He huffed. "I remember when I first left marks on you after you were super soldierized that the next day they were _completely_ gone, and I wasn't too-" He pauses then, eyes trained on Steve's bottom lip and cussed.

 

"Wow, you _just_ noticed that, Buck? And they had _you_ as their master assassin, and I got kicked by _your_ ass? This is truly shameful." Steve teased as Bucky wiped off the blood Steve _thought_ he got off.

 

"You shouldn't be around me." Bucky mumbled once he was done (needlessly) patching Steve up. "I go crazy, and I - I pin you to a wall like I'm going to rip your throat out or strangle you and when you kiss me - the only option that was open for you - I rip off a chunk of your bottom lip and-" Bucky was rambling, because he remembered what just happened (sometimes when he get's like that - in a void, lost - he doesn't remember until later).

 

"I'm fine, Buck, really. You _know_ I like it rough." He was trying to lighten the mood, get Bucky to stop worrying so damn much because Steve was willing to give up blood and be put through hell as long as he has Bucky.

 

Bucky opened his mouth and was about to say something sexual, no doubt, when his jaw clamped shut, eyes draining of their brief light. "How long until I finally snap and kill you, huh Steve?! I can barely handle the guilt of shooting and stabbing you, yet, you act like its nothing, like it's _normal_ for your presumed dead, thawed out, brained washed ex-lover and best friend to do that?! I couldn't live with myself if I killed you, I couldn't-" he was becoming hysteric, voice rising higher and more broken and raw with each word.

 

"Even when you were the Winter Soldier," Steve's lips curled foully at the name. He _hated_ it. "You didn't kill me, hell, you _saved my life._ " Steve grabbed Bucky's right hand and pressed his fingers against his wrist, before looking up and locking eyes with his troubled friend. "This is because of _you_ , Buck."

 

Bucky's exhale was shaky as he pressed his fingers harder into Steve's wrist, letting his inner turmoil calm the best he could manage right now.

 

That didn't stop Bucky from avoiding Steve for a week though.

 

-

 

"How'd you find me?" Steve asked the question that had been bugging him once Bucky stopped avoiding him.

 

Bucky's head was in his lap, his body stretched out across the couch.

 

"I asked Sam." He said simply.

 

Steve's hand froze in Bucky's hair. "You what?! And he never told me!?"

 

"Yeah, well, that's probably because I threatened to chop his dick off if he even dropped a hint about it." Bucky said, slightly sheepish but also somewhat smug.

 

"Bucky!" Steve tugged on his hair with a laugh. "That's just wrong!"

 

"I was deciding if I could ever have enough courage to actually follow through, and you knowing would only make it worse because you'd get that - that damned _kicked puppy_ look on your face again while you waited for me to show up and I just couldn't handle that."

 

"I do not look like a kicked puppy!" Steve laughed, shaking his head fondly as he smoothed his fingertips down Buckys throat, feeling the man's adams apple bob underneath his touch.

 

"Did it end better than you expected?" Steve asked after a moment, fingers tracing over Bucky's lips slowly.

 

He smiled and pressed closer to Steve. "Yeah, I mean, when I was bleeding out on your floor I was delirious. I had no clue I had even went straight to your house until you said my name, and I was terrified that Hydra was still following me and would come after you next or that for some off reason you'd try to bludgeon me with your shield." His smile was sheepish. "And I was quite a dick for the first two weeks until I started remembering more things, and.. I don't know, something just _clicked_."

 

Steve laughed. "I've never had someone try to choke me to death in my whole life more than you did in a week."

 

Bucky frowned, apologetic. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

 

"I know, Buck." He reassured, but the other man give him this disbelieving look. "I really do. I was just messing with you, promise."

 

Steve grabbed the metal hand that was resting on Buck's stomach and panic flashed in his friends eyes when he realized what Steve was doing. To his credit, he didn't try and yank his arm away - he just let Steve bring it up to his face (even after Steve has sucked on those fingers and let Bucky finger him to his orgasm (let wouldn't be the right word - Steve practically forced him into it to show him that Steve loves his arm too, _loves all of him_ , always will. And it's better, the way Bucky reacts when Steve touches the metal that's part of him now, but they still have a long way to go), or how Steve usually holds Bucky's left hand and traces his fingers along the smooth metal with his other hand, or how Steve always hums and goes pliant when Bucky cards his metal fingers through Steve's hair, or the countless other things, Bucky is still _terrified_ of having Steve near it. He probably always will be).

 

He knew Steve could feel his fingers shaking against his cheek, but he paid it no mind as he turned his face into Bucky's hand and shut his eyes, his right hand over Bucky's left, trying to calm him down.

 

"How can you stand even looking at it after everything that's happened?" Bucky asked quietly, voice wavering.

 

Steve pressed a gentle kiss against the cool metal of Bucky's palm. "Because it's a part of you," He responded, sounding sure of himself.

 

Bucky's laugh was humorless and had an eerie hollow tone to it, but he didn't try and pull his hand away.

 

"Seared into my skin unwillingly, so yes, it's a part of me, but not by fucking _choice_." Sometimes Bucky was infuriated by this, his rage so prominent it was tangible, spicy on Steve's tongue.

 

“I know it wasn't, Buck," Steve murmured, trying to diffuse his spike of anger. "And as much as I hate Hydra and as much as I want to skin _every last one of them alive_ , they made it possible for us to be together again, and from what you've told me, that metal arm has saved your life plenty of times."

 

Bucky looked away from Steve's caring eyes, unable to handle how non judgmental he was, how forgiving.

 

-

 

Steve found Bucky sitting on the end of his ( _their_ ) bed when he woke up. He sat up and moved over, pressing his chest into Bucky's back, his legs spreading so they bracket Bucky. He rested his chin on Bucky's right shoulder and peered down at what was in his hands.

 

Steve's heart lurched when he saw the last picture they took together on top of the stack. Bucky hadn't moved when Steve cuddled up to him, and even now, he was still.

 

"Buck?" Steve prompted, giving his friend a slightly concerned look.

 

"Why haven't you asked to take a picture yet?" Bucky asked, turning his head to look at Steve.

 

He smiled. Bucky remembered, he could tell by the nostalgic look in his eyes. "I thought about it, but I figured you'd shoot me down until you remembered."

 

Bucky ran a thumb along the picture fondly. "Well we can do it now," he offered.

 

Steve pressed a kiss to Bucky's shoulder. "The only thing I regret about not doing it sooner is that I don't get a picture of you with your long hair."

 

Bucky turned on him, shoving him on the bed with a gleam in his eyes before hovering over Steve, swallowing his lovers laughter with a biting kiss.

 

Steve ended up buying a camera and a tripod so they could take a picture. It occurred to him that he could've asked Sam or Natasha to do so, but he'd rather keep this tradition to them (even though they knew) and besides, he didn't want Bucky around them just yet (Natasha, Tony, Sam and Fury have all tried to meet him, but he quickly shot them down and asked them not to try to butt in and that if he needed help, he'd ask for it. They surprisingly listened).

 

After setting the timer, Steve went back to Bucky. Smiling, Steve pressed a kiss to Bucky's cheek, arms wrapped around his waist. Bucky beamed at the camera and flexed his left arm, his right hand tangled in Steve's hair.

 

When Steve looked at how the picture turned out, he barely had time to give a laugh before Bucky was pressing him against the wall, hands slipping under his blue tee shirt as he kissed his breath away.

 

-

 

Not long after Bucky found the pictures, he found the sketch book. Steve was incredibly sheepish when he saw that Bucky had his sketch pad open, staring at a picture intently.

 

_"Oh god,"_   Steve groaned as he flopped down next to Bucky on the couch, flushing.

 

It was a picture of Bucky - of course. He was stretched out on their old bed, full lips slightly parted as he looked up at Steve through his eyelashes, eyes smoldering, hair an absolute mess. His bare chest was glistening with sweat, sharp hipbones decorated with hickeys. Sheets covered his crotch, but the rest of his body was bare and on display. It was the one time Steve managed to drag his ass out of bed after sex and draw Bucky like he's always wanted to.

 

Steve buried his face into his hands, trying to sink into the couch and become one with it. He knew Bucky would see his new ones - one where Bucky was asleep on the couch when his hair was still long and he didn't talk to Steve for the first two weeks, and another one when he was asleep in Steve's bed, along with a few others that depicted him smiling, one of them laughing with his head thrown back, clutching his stomach.

 

Each flutter of the page made him sink further and further into the couch. Eventually, he heard the book close and he was irrationally terrified for a moment, but then fingers were gently prying his hands away from his face, and after a minute or so he gave in. Bucky was smiling at him in a fond way, eyes shining as he teasingly said "If you wanted to draw me, you could've just _asked_."

 

-

 

Maybe this was all _supposed_ to happen, Steve thought to himself during one tranquil night, that it wasn't by pure chance. If one of them hadn't "died," then they wouldn't be there together in the future where they could openly show their affection to one another and even get _married_ in some places.

 

Yeah, Steve mused as he looked down at Bucky's sleeping form curled around him (that he was currently sketching), all this heartache actually had a purpose, in the end.

 

And he wouldn't change a thing that happened for his life now.

 

He knew they had ways to go still, that Bucky hasn't remembered everything (and Steve was _dreading_ the time that he remembered Salem) and he still has his bad days, but they were mostly amazing days now ( _good_ isn't _near enough_ of a word) and Bucky has started running in the morning with him and going out in public with Steve (his red star was turned into Steve's shield's design before he agreed to leave the house) instead of hiding in the shadows, following Steve in case he gets into trouble.

 

One thing is for sure through every indecision - nothing will ever get in the way between them again, and if anyone tries, _they won't live to tell the tale._

 


End file.
